Okay, as a family we are unitedly coming out of the closet. We like going on cruises.Surprising, since none of us is a hundred and twenty years old; maybe if you pooled our ages together but we are not going there. Also, I have another confession; Rebecca and I are and have always been avid watchers/fans of Strictly come Dancing since day one.
Three weeks ago Strictly had their 'launch' show of this year. There was glitz, glamour and enough cheese to feed a small nation. There was also enough tanning spray to drown that same nation. But we loved it.....only just. Every year, the BBC seem to get a gigantic nervous tic and run around trying to fix things that aren't broken as far as strictly is concerned.. For example, when they got rid of Arlene and replaced her with that Dixon woman (can't remember her name and can't be bothered to google it either). Her laugh made hyenas green with envy and many viewers purple with irritation. Thankfully she left and we got Darcy Yah Yah Busell in her place. Even if you don't agree with her opinions or comments, you can respect her right to have them. I am sure you're nodding your head and saying 'yah, yah' in agreement.
Another thing of great irritation to me was their decision to have the judges dance their way to the judging table. We all know that one way or the other, their credentials include knowledge of, and experience in, dance. So why on earth would they change things to include Craig spinning like an out of control top, every single week. For a choreographer he seems to lack imagination when it comes to his own dance moves. One of these days he is going to over spin and land on someone in the audience. Darcy has definitely retired from dancing since she doesn't bother to do any dancing. She sashays her way, while Len strikes a pose. Bruno's idea of dancing appears to be swatting imaginary flies while being given electric shocks in strategic parts of his body.
Anyway, after 'launching' the show this year, three weeks have passed and Strictly starts tonight in earnest. Can't wait!
24.9.2016
Well, last night's show was fun. Once again, Craig spun, Darcey sashayed, Len posed and Bruno? Well, he actually danced! Must've taken his medication. Judge Rinder was a revelation! He spun around not unlike the hyphenated judge but with more panache. Craig acknowledged this (the dance moves not the panache). To paraphrase, "You (Judge Rinder) did the Shanay turns which I do at the start of the show and replicate every week." Well, I have a suggestion for you Craig. Why don't you stop shanay turning, sit behind the judges' table and replicate that every week.
Anyway, as usual, I went slightly off topic and published this post before I made the 'cruising' connection. This summer we went on a Norwegian cruise. As I've said before, as a family we all love going on cruises and this just like the others, was fabulous. Except this time there was entertainment from an unexpected quarter. The dancing. I am not talking about the super dance entertainment from the professionals, I am talking about the dancing from the passengers. For some reason, 'normal' dancing where couples hold each other and move to the music, occasionally following dance steps, seems to be a thing of the past. Strictly seems to have taken over! The female singer of the band would announce "we now have a cha cha cha" and the band would strike up a song quite unlike any cha cha I've heard. The flock (of about five, the rest were just voyeurs) would then dutifully and in some cases labouriously, clomp their way through the 'cha cha' or whatever dance the singer told them it was. I couldn't take my eyes off one couple doing the cha cha. The lady flung her left hand (heaven help anyone within striking distance) and the man simultaneously slapped his waist. Her fingers were placed exactly as the strictly judges recommend. She was quite taken with herself and so were we... taken with amusement. I wonder how the passengers who just want to dance normally in the good old days before Strictly got so popular, feel? I know I would be miffed but I am not. How can I grumble when we are provided with additional entertainment from an unexpected source?
Friday 23 September 2016
Tuesday 13 September 2016
Shatterred Vaz
While most people have heard of non-stick pans, I have heard of a non stick vase...... Keith Vaz. Some babies are born with silver spoons in their mouths (off spring of William and Kate for example), some are born under a lucky star, some may even be lucky enough to have stardust sprinkled on them at birth: however, I am convinced that KV had fairies and angels working overtime painting a coat of teflon on him. That is the only 'logical' explanation I can think of to explain his longevity in politics.
.I remember his first visit/holiday to Goa many years ago, after he was elected a British MP. He was feted and lauded by the Indian and Goan press, much to my annoyance. Yes he was of Goan origin and he appeared to be a successful (if minor at the time) MP in England.Big deal. Throw a marigold garland on him, picture him sipping coconut water and be done with it. But no.We had to endure reams of newspaper columns dedicated to him. To add to it, he was single. There was speculation as to whether he was on holiday to choose a prospective bride. Some single women (with aspirations) and their mothers (with bigger aspirations) held their collective breath but to no avail. He went back to Britain a single man and later married a barrister by the name of Maria Fernandes (could you get a more Goan name than that!).
Anyway, many years and alleged accusations later, teflon Vaz survived and as with all people who manage to (allegedly) hoodwink for a significant amount of time, the cloak of invincibility descends.At some point he thought he could get away with calling himself 'Jim', the washing machine man and hiring rent boys. At this point, I am going to get on my feminist high horse. Not something I do often, In fact my high horse bucks in surprise when I do jump on it - so rare is the occasion. But this time, I feel I must. Why are women who sell themselves called prostitutes and whores but men who do the same are innocuously called 'rent boys' Those 'rent boys' that KV used were grown men (thankfully)and therefore (male) prostitutes. I have never heard anyone call (women) prostitutes 'rent girls'. Okay, my rant is over.
The stupidity and enormity of what he did and more so, what he tried to get away with by turning against the newspaper when exposed, indicates a man so pompously blinkered and used to getting away with his (alleged) misdemeanours that he actually had the gall to be upset at being caught. His first reaction was not embarrassment or remorse at what he'd done but annoyance and anger targeted at the newspaper that exposed him. We are now left with this question - Is there still a thin coat of teflon left or is this the end of the line for non-stick Vaz?
.I remember his first visit/holiday to Goa many years ago, after he was elected a British MP. He was feted and lauded by the Indian and Goan press, much to my annoyance. Yes he was of Goan origin and he appeared to be a successful (if minor at the time) MP in England.Big deal. Throw a marigold garland on him, picture him sipping coconut water and be done with it. But no.We had to endure reams of newspaper columns dedicated to him. To add to it, he was single. There was speculation as to whether he was on holiday to choose a prospective bride. Some single women (with aspirations) and their mothers (with bigger aspirations) held their collective breath but to no avail. He went back to Britain a single man and later married a barrister by the name of Maria Fernandes (could you get a more Goan name than that!).
Anyway, many years and alleged accusations later, teflon Vaz survived and as with all people who manage to (allegedly) hoodwink for a significant amount of time, the cloak of invincibility descends.At some point he thought he could get away with calling himself 'Jim', the washing machine man and hiring rent boys. At this point, I am going to get on my feminist high horse. Not something I do often, In fact my high horse bucks in surprise when I do jump on it - so rare is the occasion. But this time, I feel I must. Why are women who sell themselves called prostitutes and whores but men who do the same are innocuously called 'rent boys' Those 'rent boys' that KV used were grown men (thankfully)and therefore (male) prostitutes. I have never heard anyone call (women) prostitutes 'rent girls'. Okay, my rant is over.
The stupidity and enormity of what he did and more so, what he tried to get away with by turning against the newspaper when exposed, indicates a man so pompously blinkered and used to getting away with his (alleged) misdemeanours that he actually had the gall to be upset at being caught. His first reaction was not embarrassment or remorse at what he'd done but annoyance and anger targeted at the newspaper that exposed him. We are now left with this question - Is there still a thin coat of teflon left or is this the end of the line for non-stick Vaz?
Sunday 4 September 2016
Mother Teresa
Over two decades ago, something special happened to me. Something that lives with me to this day. I had finished work one evening and was heading to the bus stop to get my 'should take 7 minutes but takes half an hour' bus ride home.I think it was fortuitous that this was my intention, since it meant that I passed the first junction that I would normally turn into, had I decided to walk home. Some people thought I was insane to walk home since it took a good 45 minutes in the heat in my baby heel shoes (offspring of Mr and Mrs High Heels) my favoured form of foot wear. However walking served a dual purpose; first of all it meant that I didn't have to exercise when I got home (I wistfully remember doing this quite regularly in my twenties) and secondly, it meant I avoided the aforementioned bus ride home. Now you might wonder how a 7 minute bus ride could possibly take half an hour. Well if you have ever taken a bus ride from Panjim City to Miramar, you will need no explanation. If you haven't, let me paint a picture.
I would wait for the bus at a stop that was almost midway, so the chance of getting a place to sit was non existent. Also non existent was any form of a queuing system, so you were pushed and jostled and you either gave up or you pushed and jostled back until you managed to get on. After the bus was full to capacity, the bus conductor would blow his whistle and the bus chugged along (cyclists and joggers overtook us) to the next (market) stop, where yet more passengers would be waiting to get on the already overcrowded bus. Now the bus conductor would be in full voice, instructing the standing passengers on what pose to strike, so as to enable more passengers to squeeze in around you. Finally, after the bus was packed enough to give a sardine a severe case of claustrophobia, the conductor would shout "barik zao" which loosely translated means 'make yourself thin!" Stupid man - if I knew the secret to that, I would be rich and would be travelling in chauffeur driven luxury instead of the transportation of torture that was his bus.
Anyway, to get to the point, I took the second turning which took me past Mother Teresa's Missionaries of Charity's House. As I approached, I noticed about a dozen people waiting outside the house, most of whom were poor migrant workers. There was a buzz of excitement and anticipation. I stopped when I got closer to the house and to my utter delight, a car drove up and Mother Teresa got out! The joy on the faces of those workers is something that I remember to this day. Although diminutive in stature, she had a presence and aura about her and intuitive intelligence in her deep set eyes. She smiled at us and spoke gently to a couple of the workers, holding their hands. She then went inside the house, leaving me inexplicably, euphorically happy. An effect she had on a lot of people. I am so grateful that fate (and some rude bus conductors) made me decide to walk that route on that day when Mother Teresa was visiting Goa. Today she is being made a saint but to me and millions of others, she always was a saint. It is just official now.
I would wait for the bus at a stop that was almost midway, so the chance of getting a place to sit was non existent. Also non existent was any form of a queuing system, so you were pushed and jostled and you either gave up or you pushed and jostled back until you managed to get on. After the bus was full to capacity, the bus conductor would blow his whistle and the bus chugged along (cyclists and joggers overtook us) to the next (market) stop, where yet more passengers would be waiting to get on the already overcrowded bus. Now the bus conductor would be in full voice, instructing the standing passengers on what pose to strike, so as to enable more passengers to squeeze in around you. Finally, after the bus was packed enough to give a sardine a severe case of claustrophobia, the conductor would shout "barik zao" which loosely translated means 'make yourself thin!" Stupid man - if I knew the secret to that, I would be rich and would be travelling in chauffeur driven luxury instead of the transportation of torture that was his bus.
Anyway, to get to the point, I took the second turning which took me past Mother Teresa's Missionaries of Charity's House. As I approached, I noticed about a dozen people waiting outside the house, most of whom were poor migrant workers. There was a buzz of excitement and anticipation. I stopped when I got closer to the house and to my utter delight, a car drove up and Mother Teresa got out! The joy on the faces of those workers is something that I remember to this day. Although diminutive in stature, she had a presence and aura about her and intuitive intelligence in her deep set eyes. She smiled at us and spoke gently to a couple of the workers, holding their hands. She then went inside the house, leaving me inexplicably, euphorically happy. An effect she had on a lot of people. I am so grateful that fate (and some rude bus conductors) made me decide to walk that route on that day when Mother Teresa was visiting Goa. Today she is being made a saint but to me and millions of others, she always was a saint. It is just official now.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)